


Well Suited for Heroics

by misura



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Community: avland, Gen, Sherlock Holmes is Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Slander," Holmes said, doubtlessly referring to the newspaper on the table. "The sheerest of rumors. I ask you, Watson - is this the face of a man who walks around dressed in modern-day armor?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Suited for Heroics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngeNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/gifts).



"Slander," Holmes said, doubtlessly referring to the newspaper on the table. "The sheerest of rumors. I ask you, Watson - is this the face of a man who walks around dressed in modern-day armor?"

Watson thoughtfully regarded the chamber screen. It was neither new nor particularly attractive. Holmes claimed that he had retrieved it from an opium den, which seemed likely enough, apart from the fact that it had been the first story offered regarding the chamber screen's provenance.

"You are aware, are you not, that I cannot actually _see_ your face just now?"

Behind the screen, something clanged. "It has been mere hours. Surely your memory is up to the challenge? Your dearest bosom companion, and you have forgotten what I look like? For shame. And you dare call yourself a friend."

"Refresh my memory."

"Impossible."

"Impossible?" Watson repeated. "Why would it be impossible?"

"Because much as it pains me to admit, certain things are beyond even me. I am prepared to be invigorating, I am prepared to be charming, I might go so far as to say that I am prepared to be dangerously and smoulderingly seductive. However, I am not something that can be poured into a glass, _ergo quod erat demonstrandum et cetera_."

"I don't believe those particular expressions go together that way."

Holmes scoffed. "It's a dead language, Watson. I'm merely reviving it - refreshing it, you might say, even. And anyway, completely beside the point."

"Which would be that you are not a liquid."

"Yes," said Holmes. "Although it is an interesting question, is it not? Would I be a beer, do you think? A wine? Something a little stronger, perhaps? A cure for those bothersome hangovers that serve no purpose whatsoever?"

"Tea?"

"Most kind of you. Perhaps later."

"I meant - never mind." More clanging sounds came from behind the screen. "Do you require any assistance? A screw driver, perhaps?"

"No, no, I am fine." A beat. "Is it still there, then?"

Watson looked around the room. It was not inconceivable a screw driver might be found somewhere, although without any directions, the enterprise might take well over an hour. "Possibly. Do you need it?"

"Yes. Quickly, if you please."

Watson remained seated and reached for the newspaper. "It says here that he fell off a building. That must have rather hurt, I imagine."

"He? He who? Regardless, it is not the falling that hurts, only the landing. The armor cushioned most of the blow - or so I would assume."

Patience was a virtue, of course. When dealing with the likes of Holmes it was, on occasion, a necessary evil. "Holmes. You might be injured. I'm a doctor."

"I am well aware, thank you. Happily, I have no trouble with my memory whatsoever. The screw driver?"

Watson turned the page. Something about the Bulgarian Prime Minister. "You can find it yourself."

"Callous. Poor luck at the tables again, then, last night. Pity. I was looking forward to being taken out to dinner. It makes a man feel quite appreciated, dinner."

"I appreciate you," Watson said.

"Thank you. I am deeply moved. Blinking away a few tears, possibly. Manly tears, it goes without saying. Oh look, I did remember to take it with me after all."

"Excellent."

"Quite. It was not a fall, by the way. Merely a mechanical malfunctioning."

Watson put down the newspaper and sighed. "Holmes. Let me help you get that armor off of you."

"It is not armor. Say rather, it's a suit of a very particular material which is not, I feel I should point out to that particular journalist, pure iron. Therefore, I am not Iron Man."

"You are Sherlock Holmes."

"Precisely. Also: in considerable discomfort at the moment, so if you would be so kind?"

"You only had to ask."


End file.
